


A Bit of Glue

by maria_j_harper



Category: Leverage
Genre: Everyone is a broken mess, Fluff and Angst, Just a 'How They Got Together' fic, Multi, No Plot/Plotless, Sexual Content, Some smexy details for flavor & stuff, but it's ok, but not smut, just like, with a side of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 05:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maria_j_harper/pseuds/maria_j_harper
Summary: I’ve got jagged edges, pieces missingBut I can see that you’re broken tooMaybe with time we can make something wholeOut of us and love and a bit of glue





	A Bit of Glue

It had been Parker who had started it all. Neither of them would have ever been anything to him other than partners, Eliot was sure, if it hadn’t been for her and her greedy thieving ways. “I know you’re only supposed to take one,” she had said, leaving the free sample stand with five mini cheese cubes, “But what’s the point of being a thief if you can’t have everything you want?” Hardison had smiled fondly at her and replied “I don’t know.” Eliot, at the time, hadn’t known what she was really talking about, and growled something irritable at her.

He had a bad habit of sleeping with the people he worked with, it made for some really scary crazy ex stories, and he didn’t want to pursue any kind of relations with anyone in his current team. They were too good together to let sex ruin things.

But then they were stuck in town together for a burn job for a while, and one night, she had simply… approached him. He was sitting on the floor where he could see all points of entry, back against the wall. She was antsy as hell, which he found strange because she could usually calm her mind pretty easily. She held still ‘talking’ with her safes, why couldn’t she hold still in this shitty motel room?

She’d been direct and straightforward about it. That was what Eliot liked about Parker, she never beat around the bush about anything. “We should have sex,” she had said. She’d been sitting next to him, casual as Parker could be, nothing of hers touched anything of his, the only indication she might want to have sex with him were the words she’d just spoken.

Which was why he’d gone, “What?”

At which point she had deftly turned around and climbed into his lap in a single fluid motion, Her knees rested on the floor on either side of his hips and her pelvis pressed into his, but her face was still a blank. “I need to blow off some steam, you probably do too, let’s just have sex.”

“Parker, that’s a-- bad idea.” Parker had taken off her shirt in the middle of his sentence, and she _never_ wore a bra, and he wasn’t, _wasn’t_ looking at those small, high breasts with nipples so dark pink and tempting, no, he wasn’t because that was a one-way road to the point of no return.

“Why? Haven’t you ever done it before?” Her hands were at his groin, one moment his pants were buttoned and zipped, the next moment they weren’t, _damn_ her deft little fingers!

“Of course I’ve done it before!” he growled. Of course he’d blown off steam a little with a partner before! “Just not with… look, this is different, okay? Just… I can’t...” Just not with someone he could break, not with someone who was all fragile bones that had already been broken far too often, who he saw both too little and too much of himself in. He couldn’t bring himself to use her like that, not her.

She wasn’t listening, he was trying to push her hands away, but he refused to hold those thin, fragile wrists with the strength needed to keep them in his grasp and she kept pulling them loose and reaching for his dick. “So let me,” she said, like his unspoken words hadn’t been carefully hidden. He always forgot just how much of his language she spoke.

And he let her. He let her pull his dick out of his pants and stroke it roughly with her hand until it was stiff enough for her to ride, watched with helpless awe as she stood to strip off her pants as well, unable to summon the will to resist. He was more responsive to pleasure than she was, and he had to wonder whether she was getting anything from this at all- of course she was, she was the one who’d wanted it -but that was hard to remember when all the noise she would make were these soft grunts that could just as easily be pain as pleasure and wouldn’t throw her head back, or let her eyes flutter closed, or hold his shoulders with passionate need. She just moved up and down on top of him, soft warm and wet colliding with hard as her angular hips smacked into his almost painfully.

She did finally give a soft, sharp cry, presumably indicating her climax, because then she slid off of him and finished him with her hand, not looking at his dick, or into his eyes either, looking nowhere. He let her make him cum, spent, but not satisfied. He let her use him.

He tried to get her to talk about it, but every time he did, she just asked him if he wanted another handjob, and told him that if not, then there was no reason to bring it up. He told her no. “That’s not how I do things,” he’d growled. _Not anymore,_ he silently added.

It happened again anyways.

She tried to get him to use her back. She had stripped in front of him, taken his hands and brought them to her breasts. “Do whatever you want with me, come on, just do it.”

When he’d refused, and refused again, she’d become upset, become angry, pounded at his chest with her fists. “Why not? WHY THE HELL NOT?”

“That’s not how I do things.”

Slowly, they became more like friends and partners than people who just had sex to blow off steam. Slowly, slow enough that it took him a while to even notice, Parker got under his skin.

Then one day Nate had said “We’re going after Damien Morrow,” and after fighting desperately to keep himself under control for months, he saw the man’s face again, and even though they beat him in the end, Eliot had grabbed Parker and fucked her hard into a wall. He’d apologized shakily after. She said nothing, she simply placed a soft, cool kiss on his forehead. It felt like the blessing of an angel.

It was a while after that, perhaps even only a short while, that they finally made love. Eliot had called her and asked her to meet him, she’d thought it was just another booty call. He’d cooked for her, and then taken her to bed. “This, this is how I do things,” he’d told her, tracing his calloused fingers tenderly along her face.

He had kissed every inch of her body, and she had trembled, afraid to let herself go, to lose control and surrender to the gentle pleasure he offered her. “Trust me,” he murmured, lips still right up against her skin. “Parker, please, just trust me.”

He still remembered her cries of bliss, her shudders of ecstasy when she finally did. She had cried after, and he had held her tight in his arms, not delicately as he had before. Because by now he had seen her for who she was and knew that while she might seem broken on the outside, she still had an iron core.

He knew she had been doing the same ‘blowing off steam’ routine with Hardison. He’d been the one to tell her to cut the games and actually try to connect with the man.

“Aren’t you guys screwing too?” she’d questioned.

Eliot had blinked at her, but really, of course she knew. “Don’t tell him you know that. I don’t think he’s entirely comfortable… hell of a way to figure out you’re attracted to dudes, believe me.”

Parker had snorted, and in that tactless, honest way of hers said, “Yeah, sure, _he’s_ the one scared of liking guys. You just keep telling yourself that.”

-

Hardison.

How had things started with Hardison?

When had ‘I want to punch you in the face’ become ‘I want to kiss you roughly until you can’t think (until we both can’t think)?’

How the hell had he, steamingly furious, managed to push him into a closet and kiss him, bite him, and press him up against the wall? And how in the world had he managed to stop himself from taking it too far and further?

How had they not talked about it after?

How had it happened that, the next time Hardison was annoying him and they were alone, Hardison had been the one to initiate the kiss, and they’d wound up doing it again, and again, each time going a little bit further until one day they both found themselves naked and panting, covered in sweat and cum, with Hardison shaking his head and getting dressed hurriedly with Elliot just laying there watching him run away with sympathy. The next day, when Hardison bickered back at him like it was any other day, relief overwhelmed him almost to the point that he forgot to be gruff with his retort. 

More importantly though, why now was Hardison starting to feel less like a barely tolerated colleague and more like a friend? The shift in their relationship was making Eliot unsettled. Hating Hardison was easy, if he had to like him, he had to stop using him like he’d told Parker he didn’t do. The next time it happened with him, Hardison had tried for a “High five, for morale,” and Eliot had been the one to storm off uncomfortably.

Sometimes Parker would come to the job wearing Eliot’s shirt, and sometimes she’d be wearing Hardison’s. Eliot had considered trying to get Hardison to switch shirts with him just to make the circle complete, but couldn’t find anything in Hardison’s wardrobe he would ever actually want to wear, if it would even fit him (skinny-ass hacker).

If he was honest, he probably wouldn’t have followed through with it anyway.

And the whole time, he’d been gently nudging them towards each other, yet still found when they finally did say to the group “We’re dating,” something small and fragile broke in his chest, leaving little pieces of glass to lance through his heart like shrapnel at inconvenient moments. It was fine though, he was used to this feeling.

They were officially romantic, and didn’t need him anymore. Which was great! He didn’t need them either. Not to say they didn’t matter, no, far from it. The elegant and graceful girl whose soul was covered in cracks where she was broken and glued back together the same as him and the cock-sure and well cut man who hadn’t a single chip or crack in him had left impressions on his heart, everyone he made love with did. He remembered every one, and he learned something from each of them. These two… had taught him more than most. But. They had each other now. He just had to let that chapter of his life close and move on. ...It wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

And then when he’d least expected it, Parker had told him to meet her in a hotel room. He’d knocked and she’d pulled him inside where she’d turned him around and backed him toward the bed, and Hardison’s waiting arms.

And they had all made love, hungry and careful, and dizzying and soft. And afterwards, Parker had snuggled between her two men with a soft smile on her face, and Eliot had gotten up to make them breakfast in the morning. He'd exchanged words with Hardison when he woke, voices soft so they wouldn’t wake Parker.

“You sure you’re ok with this?” Eliot asked, because this wasn’t his first time being a couple’s threesome buddy, and he didn’t have a problem with it (he’d take anything that they would willingly give), but he really didn’t want Hardison becoming The Jealous Boyfriend.

“Hey man, I love Parker. We’ve had a pretty good thing going so far, the three of us, and when she said this was something she might want- I want her to have everything she wants. And anyway, she needs you sometimes. I’m always gonna be here if she needs me, but every now and then, she needs something I can’t give her. You know her in ways I don’t, sometimes, in ways I can’t without having been the places you guys have been.” His tone was warm, and there was something distinctive about his stance Eliot couldn’t quite place.

“You don’t want to go to the places I’ve been.”

“I know.” He paused, and very carefully put his hand on Eliot’s arm, and suddenly it clicked. This was how he was with Parker sometimes, carefully offering a piece of support or affection and waiting to see if she would let him give it to her or start running. It reminded Eliot of watching Amy gentle a horse. _“First the blanket, then the saddle, see? See little one? It ain’t so bad, is it?”_

“So it’s all for Parker then?” Eliot asked, because leaving things lie was never his strength.

“What? No. I mean, she’s the one who suggested it, but. She’s not the only one who needs you sometimes. I, I get carried away and wrapped up in ideas and numbers and shit, and you ground me back to reality. You and your “damnit Hardison’s” and your insistence that I can’t live just off of gummy frogs, probably done saved my life more often than you have with your fighting.”

And how could Eliot not kiss him for that?

Parker had also been the one to bring up possible future threesomes, and Hardison had laughed and said they would talk about it. She’d murmured something about ‘well maybe next time you can be the peanut butter and jelly in the sandwich,’ at which he’d become flustered.

Now Eliot ate breakfast with his two favorite people in the world, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was whole.


End file.
